Kiss Me, Baby
by Smackalicious
Summary: Abby throws a Christmas party, but it's not just ANY Christmas party. ONESHOT. Gabby. McTiva. Leon/Jackie. Written for Secret Santa 2012 on NFA.


**Title: Kiss Me, Baby**  
**Pairing: Gibbs/Abby, Tony/McGee/Ziva, Leon/Jackie**  
**Characters: Basically everyone, including Fornell.**  
**Rating: T**  
**Genre: Humor, Romance**  
**Cat: Primarily Het**  
**Spoilers: None.**  
**Warnings: Threesome.**  
**Summary: Abby throws a Christmas party, but it's not just ANY Christmas party.**  
**Author's Note: Written for Secret Santa 2012 for sunset_leaf. She was pretty open with her prompts & pairings, so I went with my gut. ;) Also, this doesn't take place during any current season, since she requested up to season 7 for time frame.**

* * *

If I, Abby Scuito, had to choose a favorite holiday, I would have to say it would be . . . Halloween. But, Christmas does come in a very close second, like, so close you'd need a microscope to see the space between them, that's how much I love it. And since this story is about Christmas, let's focus on that.

This year was no different from any other – December approached, Gibbs pretended to be a Grumpy Gus but I saw right through it, Tony pretended to have plans with some busty blonde while the rest of us knew he'd be sitting at home on Christmas Eve watching It's A Wonderful Life for the 374th time, etc. etc. But I decided I did want things to be different this year, and I was going to accomplish that by throwing a party.

But it wasn't going to be just any party. I was throwing a mistletoe party.

Yeah, I know what you're thinking. Right, like Gibbs would ever go for that. Not to mention the Director. Vance may be married and is probably a hunk-a hunk-a burning love with his lovely wife, but when it comes to NCIS-themed parties? I doubt he'd approve what would essentially be one huge game of tonsil hockey.

So I had to indulge in a little trickery to get my way. Not that I condone lying or scheming, because I do, after all, work for a federal agency and that kind of stuff can get you in big trouble, but it wasn't as though I was _lying_, really. I just wasn't giving out all the information up front. I mean, there's gotta be _some _mystery, right?

So as the weather grew colder and the snow started to lightly dust the streets of DC, I set my plan into action. And let me tell you, it couldn't have worked out better. . .

The night of the party, I found myself rushing around like Gibbs had given me ten fluid samples to analyze and they needed to be done yesterday. I'm usually prepared, everything laid out neat and in order, but there'd been a triple homicide that week and I was up to my elbows in spent bullets and personal items from the victims, and I'd spent far more time sleeping on the futon in my lab than I had at home. Which left me decorating up until the moment my doorbell rang, and for once, I was not delighted to hear the sound of Jingle Bells I had rigged the bell to play.

I ran to answer the door, nearly tripping over a garland that had fallen to the floor in the process, and checked the peephole before opening the door. It was McGee. Of course. He was always early for everything.

I unlocked all the locks and yanked the door open. "McGee." I wasn't trying to sound annoyed, but really, he couldn't have waited until 7 like everyone else? But then I paused. I could use him. "Would you like to help finish the decorating while I finish the food?"

"Um, I . . ."

"Great! There's a box of mistletoe over there that needs to be hung wherever there's a picture of Gibbs. . . ."

I spun around before he could respond and made my way back to the kitchen. I had to get my cookies out of the oven and get the punch mixed – hopefully McGee wouldn't notice the extra ingredient I was adding to the punch. I knew how he felt about alcohol, and if he suspected I was trying to booze everyone up so they'd just go for it and kiss the person they'd been making googly eyes at for however long, he'd slap my hand and chastise me like one of the nuns after I had a bad bowling game. But I wasn't about to let a frowny McGee stop me in my goal. And he was one of the people I most wanted to go after his crush, though I wasn't really sure exactly who that was at times.

"Abby, what exactly do you mean by 'a box of mistletoe'? Not to mention, there has to be 20 pictures of Gibbs hung up around here! You can't possibly. . ."

I swung to face him and slammed the spatula I'd been using on the counter. "I can't possibly what, McGee? This is my party and if I want my apartment to be festooned with mistletoe, then festooned it shall be!"

We stared at each other for a few moments, then he said, "Festooned?"

I rolled my eyes. Ugh, and he was supposed to be a writer. "McGee, let me spell this out for you. I am sick and tired of watching you drool over Tony. . ."

"I don't drool over Tony!" he squawked, his face turning an adorable shade of red that confirmed that yes, he did indeed drool over Tony. And really, who can blame him? That man is built.

". . . and gaze at Ziva like some lovesick puppy," I continued, knowing I'd get him there. I mean, you don't take the time to make a screensaver out of pictures of someone in a bikini if you just think of them as a friend. Please.

"I don't . . . gaze at Ziva," he muttered, his resolve crumbling just as I knew it would. He sighed. "What's your point, Abby?"

"My point is that I want you to do something about it already, Timmy! Get some!" His blush returned and I shook my head. His "innocent" act may work on Ziva – oh, yeah, she was just as guilty as he was – but I knew better. "And that is just what this party is for. Well, for you and for me, too. For all of us, really."

A sneaky smile replaced his blush and he nodded slowly. "And just who are you looking to lock lips with, Abbs? Wouldn't happen to be a certain someone whose face is plastered all over your walls, would it?"

I shrugged. "That is for me to know and for you to find out at the party." He may have been right about Gibbs, but I knew both of his dirty little secrets – not that they were exactly secrets, because anyone with eyes could see that he had a crush on both Tony and Ziva. Well, unless that person was blind. But even then, he was practically emitting a signal that said, 'These are the people I want to do.' It was ridiculous, really.

I suddenly stomped my foot as I realized he was distracting me. Again. "McGee! It is almost time for the party, and yet the mistletoes – is that the plural form of mistletoe? – are not up, and the stockings are not hung by the chimney with care. . ."

"You don't have a chimney, Abby."

"That's not my point and you know it. This place needs to be decorated before anyone. . ." And as though on cue, the doorbell rang. Of course.

I sent McGee another glare – best to let him know I was still annoyed at him – and stomped toward the door, but I couldn't stay annoyed for long when I saw who was on the other side. Opening the door, I couldn't contain my excitement. "Ducky!"

"Ah, my dear, Merry Christmas." He dropped a gentle kiss on my cheek – ever the gentleman, that Ducky – and entered, carrying a large covered glass dish.

"Oh, Ducky, you didn't have to bring anything," I said, though I was secretly glad he had – the more food, the happier Tony would be, at least. "What is it?"

He chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling. "Nothing too Scottish, for everyone else's sake. Just an apple and pear crisp."

"Sounds delicious." I returned his kiss and took the dessert back into the kitchen, calling back to him, "Go ahead, have a seat."

"Abby," McGee's whine sounded from what sounded like the hallway leading to my bedroom. As long as he had no intentions of going in there, I was content to leave him to whine. "Can't Ducky help me?"

"Ducky is a guest, McGee. What kind of person would I be if I asked my guests to help decorate?" I winked at Ducky, knowing that would be just the kind of statement to set sweet little innocent McGee off.

But he just muttered something to himself, that sounded like, "What am I, chopped liver?" See what I mean about being in disbelief that he's a writer?

"Hurry up, McGee, people are starting to show up and I still have to get all this food finished," I called out to him. I mean, geez, it's not like I asked him to identify fingerprints without using AFIS.

I stepped out into the living room again, finding Ducky tacking up the garland that had fallen, and shook my head. That was just like him. And McGee had picked up his pace and was stabbing mistletoes everywhere.

Just as he was hanging a mistletoe above the door, the doorbell rang again. "Answer that, wouldya, Timmy?"

I could almost hear him roll his eyes, but he did as told, opening the door to just the person I was hoping was on the other side. For his sake, anyway. Though it would have been _really _funny if it had been Gibbs.

"Ziva, hi. You're, uh, you're early." He glanced up at the mistletoe. Nice, McGee. Very subtle.

"I am not that early," she responded, and her eyes followed his to the mistletoe. Here we go. "Oh, look. It appears that I have caught you under the mistletoe." And before McGee could say anything, Ziva had reached up and brought his face down to meet hers, giving him a kiss that was far too short if you ask me. She let him go and I could just imagine the dazed look on McGee's face. "Perhaps we will find ourselves in this situation again later on?" McGee could only nod and I tried not to laugh out loud, as Ziva pushed past him and entered, carrying a large shopping bag in one hand.

"Hello, Abby! I know you said not to bring anything, but I know that really means you would like if we did, so I brought treats." She joined me in the kitchen as McGee continued to stand at the open door, eventually turning around and muttering to himself.

"You sure did," is what I think he said, and I grinned to myself, turning my attention back to Ziva and accepting the hug she gave me.

"Hey, McGee, close the door and get over here," I called out to him, adding under my breath to Ziva, "and maybe close your mouth while you're at it. He couldn't be any more obvious."

Ziva gave a low laugh and leaned in to me, murmuring, "Maybe that repeat performance will happen sooner than later."

I grinned and gave her a high five, as McGee joined us, his eyebrows knit together in concern. "What are you two up to?" he asked, and I shrugged, giving him an innocent look.

"_I'm _not up to anything. Ziva, on the other hand. . ."

Ziva swatted at me, but couldn't keep the smile off her face. Oh, yeah. The feeling was _definitely _mutual between these two.

"Ziva, why don't you help McGee finish decorating?" I suggested. "Looks like there's a garland that still needs to be hung in the hallway."

"I would love to help, Abby," Ziva said, making her way out of the kitchen and grabbing McGee's hand on the way out. He looked surprised, then pleased, and I winked at Ducky. As long as they didn't attempt to go into my. . .

"What does this door lead to?" I heard a moment later, and knew I had to intervene before I needed to burn all my sheets.

"That's my bedroom, _Ziva_." I left the kitchen to track them down, make sure they weren't on their way to making little geek ninja babies. Not that I would mind if they did, because aww, that would be so cute! But not in my apartment.

But before I could check on them, Jingle Bells sounded again. I glanced down the hallway, weighing my options, and decided to make a run for the door.

When I saw who was there, I let out a loud squeal as I flung open the door. "Gibbs! Fornell!" I gave them both a kiss on the cheek, Gibbs looking pleased (yay!) and Fornell looking slightly embarrassed (aww!). "Mistletoe," I explained, pointing up. "I didn't know you were coming, Fornell!"

He shrugged. "Jethro dragged me with him – ah, asked if I would like to join you all in celebrating the holiday." The smirk on his face told me he didn't really mind. And neither did I. Fornell may pretend to be an old grump, but I knew better. He was one of Gibbs' best friends, after all.

"Well, I am glad you decided to come," I said, stepping aside so they could enter. "The more, the merrier. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go wrangle some stray agents." I ran back toward my bedroom, calling out, "Oh, Timmy, Ziva, Gibbs is here. . ."

They jumped apart from each other as I approached. Clearly they were getting into the holiday spirit, if you know what I mean. Ziva ran a hand over her hair, a classic sign that she was flustered – and maybe a little hot and bothered; and believe me, I know how _that _goes when it comes to sexy silver-haired co-workers . . . I mean, well, you know what I mean, no use keeping it a secret anymore.

"We finished decorating," McGee finally said, his expression still a little glazed over. I had to roll my eyes. Gibbs was going to see _right _through that.

"Well, come on." I motioned for them to follow me. "Ziva can get her treats ready – not _those _kinds of treats, McGee, so don't worry, there will be plenty of those for you later – and you can sit and mingle with Ducky and Gibbs and Fornell."

"Mingle?" McGee asked.

I spun around to face them, and Ziva quickly moved her hand back in front of her. Hmm. "Yes, McGee. You know, make small talk. Talk about boats or something."

The doorbell rang again and I ran off to get it, hearing McGee mutter, "I don't know anything about boats," and Ziva giggle – yes, giggle – as she retreated into the kitchen to take out her treats.

This time Tony and Jimmy greeted me at the door. Tony gave me a classic DiNozzo smile and looked up. Oh, that sneak. He had to have known. Well, it _is _Tony. He probably just assumed there would be mistletoe, or brought some himself as his addition to the party. "Can I get a kiss?" he asked, and I was sure both Ziva and McGee were watching, so I played along.

"Tradition _is _tradition," I said, winking, and threw my arms around him, giving him a nice loud smooch on the lips. He returned the kiss, and it wasn't long before I felt someone's hand around my arm, and I pretended to be annoyed, but I was smirking inside. "Gibbs. . ." I said, making sure my voice was extra whiny.

"Don't make me slap you already, DiNozzo," Gibbs threatened, and I turned toward him, pouting.

"But he's such a good kisser, Gibbs," I said, knowing it would rile him up one way or another.

He leaned in so only I could hear him, and muttered, "He's not the only one," then dropped my arm, and I think his hand actually grazed my butt, but my brain was so close to short-circuiting from just the _thought _of kissing him that I can't even remember that properly.

The sound of someone clearing their throat brought me back to reality and I looked over to where Tony and Jimmy still stood outside. Jimmy gave me an apologetic smile. "Can we come in?"

I stepped out of the way, feeling a little flustered, and ushered them in. Damn that Gibbs for being so sexy. He was totally throwing me off my game, and I was usually so good around him.

Tony and Jimmy came in, greeting everyone, and Jimmy sat down next to Ducky, while Tony wandered off to bother McGee and Ziva, of course.

I turned back to close the door, when I heard, "Hold the door!" Uh-oh. The moment of truth.

I held the door open, saying, "Oh, Leon, so glad you could make it!" as the Director came into view. I imagined my Three Musketeers in the kitchen all wore expressions similar to how I was feeling inside. After all, how were we supposed to have a make out party with the Director there? Though I guess I _did _invite him, so it's not like I can blame him for actually showing up. I glanced over his shoulder. "Did you bring your lovely family with you tonight?" Maybe if Jackie was with him, he'd get distracted.

"Not the kids," he said, and looked over his shoulder, like he was waiting for someone else to show up, "but my lovely _wife_ should be joining us shortly. She insisted on bringing a dish to share, and she's getting it from the car."

Before I even knew what I was doing, I found myself giving him a light punch on the arm and saying, "You always let your wife do all the heavy lifting, Director?"

I felt more than heard the conversation slow to nothingness behind me and my eyes widened so much I'm sure I looked like McGee did back in his probie years whenever he dropped Gibbs' coffee as I realized what I had done. "Oh, Director! I am so sorry, I didn't mean to punch you. I didn't even mean to touch you. I am sure there are some strict rules against that. You know, like in the sexual harassment guidelines. I wouldn't want to, you know, be accused of sexually harassing you. Because that is not my intention at all." Oh, Director Vance is so much worse than Gibbs for throwing me off my game. I just hoped he wouldn't fire me for inappropriately touching him, even though it wasn't the kind of inappropriate touching most people thought of when they thought of inappropriate touching.

But to my great relief, he just smiled. "No harm done, Ms. Sciuto. I _was_ a boxer back in the day, after all." He winked – which I totally was not expecting – and turned to meet his wife, who had thankfully arrived at last. She was carrying a huge bowl, which I quickly offered to take from her.

"You really didn't have to go to all this trouble, Mrs. Vance," I said, ushering them in and closing the door for the last time. Everyone was here! But that led me to my next problem – what were we going to do? I hadn't really planned any activities (well, aside from the obvious mistletoe-related ones) and while I was content to chat with everyone, I couldn't guarantee the same for anyone else (aside from Ducky, of course, and maybe Tony).

"So." Gibbs' voice drew me from my thoughts, and I had to force myself not to sigh at the glorious sound of it. I looked over at him, waiting. "What now?"

"Um. . ." I bit my lip, looking at the trio in the kitchen for some assistance, hoping they weren't too busy assisting each other in getting their clothes off or something equally scandalous. That could wait until later, when we were all otherwise occupied.

McGee looked at me with that adorable wide-eyed expression that made me fall for him in the first place, and said just the thing I was hoping he would say: "Anybody want some punch?"

"Yes, punch!" I chimed in, knowing the secret to this party's success (or failure, depending on just how _much _people drank. . . or remembered, for that matter) laid in the amount of alcohol I'd put in the punch. "And Ducky and Ziva and Mrs. Vance were all kind enough to bring treats, so we should eat those, too. And. . ."

"You don't have anything planned, do ya, Abbs?"

Oh, damn Gibbs and his ability to read me like a book. Why couldn't he have the inability to read me like a text message? I put on my best innocent face. "Well, that's not exactly true. . ."

He glanced around, taking in the mistletoe, and said, "Yeah, I figured that much."

I shrugged. "It's a traditional Christmas decoration. It just so happens that there's a traditional activity that goes along with it."

"Why do you think I brought my wife?"

I slowly turned to face Director Vance. "How did you. . . I didn't tell anyone. . ." Oh, I was right, after all. "Tony!"

Tony paused halfway to lifting a chocolate-covered ball to his mouth – were those rum balls? Oh, Ziva, you know how to work a party. – and gave me a sheepish smile, which slowly turned charming. Oh no you don't, DiNozzo. I know how you work.

"Come on, Abbs, like nobody guessed," he said, but nobody dared to agree with his statement. Good. They know better than to mess with a forensic scientist. I know some very creative ways to dispose of bodies, after all. "I just hinted that there might be some . . . extracurricular activities, so if people wanted to bring someone to share that with. . ."

The longer I glared at him, the cuter he got. Dammit! "It's a good thing you're a good kisser, DiNozzo," I muttered, and stomped toward the kitchen, more determined than ever now to get good and drunk on that punch.

As I entered the kitchen, Ziva approached me. "Do you have some Christmas music we could play, Abby? I think it would help, um, get the party going?"

"Oh, yeah, sure." I ran to turn on my stereo, slipping in a mix CD I'd made of classic Christmas songs, and Brenda Lee's voice was the first up with 'Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree.' I turned back to Ziva. "Gonna show us some moves, Zee?" I winked at her, then watched Tony and McGee as they tried not to show how interested they would be in that.

She chuckled. "Maybe later. For now," she squeezed herself between Tony and McGee, purposely making sure to touch them as she did so, "I brought a lot of treats," she picked up two small squares of what looked to be brownies of some sort, "so we should eat up." With that, she turned and lifted the treats to the boys' mouths, and they each had a mouthful of chocolate before they knew what hit them.

"You behaving in there, Ziver?" Gibbs asked. Oh, why was he being such a Scrooge?

"Gibbs, it's Christmas! We're having a party. It's supposed to be fun." I grabbed a cup and ladled some punch into it, then walked it into the living room, presenting it to Mr. Grinch himself. "Drink up. I know it's not coffee, but I think you'll like it." I winked at him and flounced back to the punch bowl, hoping he was staring at my ass as I went. What? These skirts weren't just a fashion statement. "Come on, everybody. I made tons of punch, so drink up."

Ziva began to line up cups so I could ladle punch into them and hand them out, while Ducky entered the kitchen to cut into his dessert, and Jackie revealed just what was in her bowl – an amazing looking fruit salad. I felt my stomach rumble looking at everything, and heard Tony behind me.

"I think I'm gonna need a pizza to go with all this sweet stuff," he said, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

"You think you need a pizza all the time, DiNozzo," Gibbs spoke before I could say anything. I had to giggle, not only because it was the truth, but because he said exactly what I – and I'm sure everyone else – was thinking.

"I'm Italian," he muttered, and Ziva chuckled and patted him on the chest, then shared an amused look with McGee. You know, something told me none of them were going home alone that night, and while I never really pictured McGee as being into threesomes, with these two? I could totally see it. They were all into each other, and this way, they didn't have to choose. And no one got left out. It was so sweet! And kinky. I could only imagine what sorts of things would happen once they left the party. . .

"Abbs." I turned around at the sound of Gibbs' voice, and found him giving me a concerned look. "You okay?"

"Yeah." I found myself staring into his eyes, getting distracted again. Damn him. "I just, uh, was thinking about something."

He smirked. "Do I wanna know?" he said in a super low, super sexy voice. I thought I was going to melt right there. But I couldn't show him how much he affected me. I had to stay strong.

"Maybe I'll tell you later," I murmured, reaching around him for my own cup of punch and "accidentally" leaning into him, pressing my hips against his. I grabbed my cup and backed off, finishing my statement. "You know, after the party?" And then, I turned, snagging a plate and filling it up with treats before heading for the living room and plopping down between Ducky and Jimmy, knowing I'd succeeded in sexually frustrating him. Good. Hopefully that would lead to some very serious mistletoe action later.

I heard Fornell's words to Gibbs as I dug into my fruit salad. "You are one lucky son-of-a-bitch, Jethro," he said, and I smirked to myself. He had no idea. Really, if I weren't so hung up on Gibbs, I might be chasing after Tobias. I have always been into older men.

"So, Abby," Jimmy said, and when I turned to him, I could tell he was kind of anxious – not that that was anything terribly out of the ordinary, "what's with all the mistletoe? Are they, um, open to anyone to use, or is it just a decoration?"

"Mister Palmer!" Ducky's admonishment wasn't a surprise, though it was a bit disappointing. Jimmy just wanted a little action. I mean, being surrounded by dead people all day has got to be a bit of a turn-off for the ladies. Not for me, though. I'm used to it. But like I said before, I'm all Gibbs'. If I wasn't, though. . . Man, I have _got _to get a grip. And a kiss from Gibbs. That might make me less likely to make out with anyone I come in contact with.

"I was just asking, Doctor," Jimmy muttered, and I gave him a conciliatory pat on the shoulder.

"You know me, Jimmy," I said. "I wouldn't have hung so many," I heard a loud throat clearing from the other side of the room and rolled my eyes, "okay, _McGee _wouldn't have hung so many mistletoe if I didn't intend on everyone having a very merry Christmas. So, you know, if you happen to catch me later. . ."

"Oh, okay." His eyes lit up and he grinned, and I just hoped he wasn't expecting too much. Maybe someday he'd find some cute embalmer to marry. Who knows.

I turned back to my plate, starting on Ducky's crisp, when I heard a loud laugh from Ziva. I looked over my shoulder to see her standing between Tony and McGee on the other side of the room, looking like she was having the time of her life. She held her cup of punch in one hand and had the other resting on McGee's hip, her fingers hooked over the waistband of his jeans. McGee was giving her the most intense look I have ever seen on his face, and Tony was watching McGee with this incredible softness in his eyes. The whole thing felt very intimate, and I felt myself blush just watching them, so I quickly averted my eyes, but found myself intruding on another tender moment, this one between Director Vance and his wife. Jackie had her arms draped over Leon's shoulders and they were speaking quietly to each other, then Leon placed his cup on a windowsill and leaned in to softly kiss her. I sighed. I could only hope for that sort of romance for myself, hopefully with my favorite silver fox.

I turned my eyes toward the kitchen, where Gibbs and Fornell still stood, nibbling on Ziva's various cookies and other treats. Just as I looked, Gibbs turned to meet my gaze, as if he'd sensed me watching him. I wanted to turn away, but I found myself just staring, knowing I wasn't being subtle at all, but if he hadn't guessed how I felt already, then he wasn't as good at reading people as I thought he was.

"I am going to go mingle a bit," I heard Ducky say, and just nodded as I felt him get up from the couch. I heard him mutter something to Jimmy, who quickly joined him, and it wasn't long before Gibbs walked over and sat down next to me, while Fornell joined Ducky and Jimmy in conversing with the others.

"Hi," I said as Gibbs lowered himself onto the couch.

He just smirked. "Having fun?"

I nodded and looked around, noticing that Ducky had started chatting with Vance and his wife, while Jimmy and Fornell were talking (which kinda surprised me, but then again, it was Jimmy and he did a lot of stuff I wasn't really expecting) and Tony, McGee and Ziva were . . . nowhere to be seen. Oh, boy. I hoped my bedroom door was locked, because yeah, I would be needing that later, thank you. Oh, not for _that _reason. I'm not that kind of girl. Though I have known Gibbs for years. . .

"Abbs," Gibbs' voice made me look back to him, and I hoped I didn't look as nervous as I felt. "What was the point of all this?"

"I wanted everyone to be happy," I said after a minute. My voice sounded so small, like it was someone else talking, and I was so mad at myself, because I was trying so hard to not sound . . . desperate, or to have him feel sorry for me. That was the last thing I wanted. I wanted him to want me for me. "Everyone seems to be having a good time. Are you?"

He smiled at me, that kind of smile where you can tell he's trying not to laugh, and I hoped it was because he was happy to be there and not because he thought I was being ridiculous, though didn't he always think I was being ridiculous? And I guess 20 mistletoe is a bit much, but I had to cover all the bases, though not _those _kinds of bases, though it kinda looked like my Three Musketeers hit a grand slam tonight.

"You didn't have to do all this just for me, Abbs," he finally said, and I found myself holding my breath, wondering what he would say next. "You could've just said something."

"What?" Of everything I thought he'd say, that was not one of them.

"Or, you could've just showed me," he continued as though I hadn't said anything, and he leaned toward me and I felt my heart speed up. Holy Major Mass Spec, he was going to kiss me!

"Gibbs," I whimpered, not even caring that Vance was right there, probably watching. I was getting what I'd always wanted, and no agency rule was going to stop that!

"Merry Christmas, Abbs," he murmured, before closing the distance between us and pressing his lips to mine. I shut my eyes instinctively and returned the kiss, my hands moving to his chest and pressing against him. Oh, God, this was even better than I could have imagined! He felt so solid, and he smelled like coffee and wood shavings, and he tasted! He tasted like fruit punch mixed with vodka and Ziva's rum balls and that homey apple pear crisp and there was something else that was just entirely _Gibbs_.

He pulled away and I know in reality it couldn't have been more than a minute, probably less than that, because Gibbs isn't really the type to make out with someone in front of other people – and he doesn't really seem like the making out type in general, though I am very determined to change that – but it felt like ages. It felt longer than a fingerprint search when the print wasn't in the system and it took all night and I fell asleep at my desk and Gibbs came down and woke me up with a Caf-Pow! and a kiss on the cheek. Now I hoped when he woke me up, it'd be more than a kiss on the cheek he'd be giving me, and hopefully I wouldn't be sleeping at my desk, either.

"Hey," he said, and I blinked, focusing on him again. He grinned. "Ya didn't need the alcohol."

I narrowed my eyes at him and punched him on the chest, but he grabbed me and drew me into him, so I couldn't help but smile. This was perfect. Director Vance and his wife were slow dancing to White Christmas on the stereo, my Musketeers had reappeared (though looking a bit askew) and were chatting with Ducky, and Jimmy and Fornell were . . . whoa, I was not expecting that.

"Gibbs," I whispered, though I knew nobody would be paying attention to us, anyway, "are they. . .?"

"Sure looks like it."

"Huh. Guess that alcohol served its purpose, after all. Though I can't say that was exactly what I was anticipating."

"Alright," Gibbs announced, standing up and pulling me up with him. "Party's over."

Everyone broke away from their conversations to stare at him and I gave him a shocked look. "But Gibbs! Everything just got started!"

He leaned in to whisper in my ear. "Yeah, it did."

_Oh. _"Okay, people, party's over, thanks for coming, let's get moving." Everyone started moving toward the door, looking surprised, and I hurried over to herd them out, saying my goodbyes as I did so. "Timmy, Tony, you two be good to Ziva, and Ziva, you go easy on them. They're a lot more fragile than they look."

"Hey!" McGee interjected, and I shoved him toward the door.

"Ducky, thank you for the crisp, it was _delicious_." Especially on Gibbs, but I certainly couldn't tellDucky that, now could I?

"You are welcome, my dear, though if I may. . ."

"I'll bring everyone their leftovers tomorrow. We'll have snacks for work. Adios!" I turned back to the remainder of the group. "Tobias, so nice of you to show up! And so . . . glad you and Jimmy found a way to pass the time."

He grinned, looking slightly out of breath. "That kid's got quite a hand. Could really get a workout with him." He turned to Jimmy and winked, Jimmy blushed, and I . . . tried not to think about it. That was one of the weirder things I've seen in my life, and I've seen a _lot _of weird things, because I _thrive_ on weird.

"Jimmy." I gave him a pointed look. "Pace yourselves. Fornell's not that young anymore." His blush deepened and he waved his goodbye as he followed Fornell out the door. Who ever thought those two would challenge each other to an arm wrestling contest?

Last up were Director Vance and his wife. "Leon. . ." I quickly corrected myself after seeing the look on his face. "Director. Jackie. Thank you so very much for coming and I do hope you will quickly forget anything you may have seen here tonight." I gave them my sweetest smile, hoping it would work, but also knowing I wasn't as good at persuading people with my smile as Tony was.

The Director smirked. "If anybody here feels for someone else the way I do for this lovely woman next to me," he gave Jackie a squeeze, "I'd hate to deny them that privilege."

"Aww, Leon, that's so sweet!" I swooped in to give him a hug, but he held out a hand, stopping me. "Too soon for a hug?" He nodded. "Guessing still not digging the Leon, either." He nodded again. Sigh. I tried. Gibbs cleared his throat next to me, and I remembered just why we were shutting the party down early. "Well, it's been fun. See ya tomorrow." I guided them to the door, and quickly closed and locked it once they were out, then turned back to Gibbs, grinning. "Where were we?"

He walked toward me, making me back up until my back was against the door. "Well, you went through the trouble of hanging all this mistletoe," I opened my mouth to correct him and he continued, "yeah, yeah, McGee did it, right. Either way, we may as well use it."

"Oh, Gibbs, I always knew you had the Christmas spirit in you." He leaned down to meet me and I closed my eyes again, thinking how this was the best gift I could have ever asked for.

Well, that or a new compound microscope.

**THE END!**


End file.
